The Last Man Standing Isn't Alone
by SarahAmaya1
Summary: Continuation of "A Different Kind of Blanket" Beth wakes up all alone in the crammed minivan. Daryl is nowhere to be seen, his crossbow is gone, and there's no sign of where he could have gone. Beth is forced to stay put until he comes back-IF he comes back.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Walking Dead; I am just very obsessed and would love to share my ideas and fan-girling with everyone! Thank you, Robert Kirkman for creating such an awesome tale.

 **Note:** This is a one-shot kind of deal. It is very short and to the point. I am in the process of creating a longer story with a complex plot. This is the second dabble I've created after my "A Different Kind of Blanket" this event takes place after the happenings of the first short story. I'm making a continuation for a while until I feel like stopping to write a long story. I hope these dabbles are enjoyable!

. . .

Beth woke with a slight chill and a raging headache. When she opened her eyes she was blinded by the morning sun. She very much underestimated the moonshine. She rubbed her tired eyes and took in her surroundings. The minivan's seats were soft, and despite the blood stains here and there, she felt it kind of homey. She was still wrapped in Daryl's jacket. Beth looked at it for a long moment, then shot up in her seat so fast it made her head spin in circles. Daryl wasn't in the car.

"Daryl?" she choked. Beth held the handle of her knife so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She kept Daryl's vest close to her chest. ' _Where the hell did he go?_ ' she thought with dread. His crossbow was gone, as well as his bag. She peaked out the tinted windows and decided the coast was clear. Slowly opening the sliding door of the minivan, she stepped out. The beating rays of sun hit her like a thousand bricks, instantaneously beckoning sweat. It was already unseeingly hot and it wasn't even noon.

Looking around there was no sign of Daryl. There was no sign of a fire. She thought maybe he caught something and decided to cook it so that they could have something to eat when she woke up. She walked around the dark blue minivan and came in between a silver Volvo. The front was bloodstained and the windshield cracked open. A dead corpse laid in the driver's seat with its head bashed on the steering wheel. There were about ten cars in the area; four on the right and six on the left side of the road. She walked to the end of the rows and still there was no sign of Daryl.

She cupped her hands over her mouth. If she attracted a walker, she could deal with it, and if she couldn't she would just hide in a car. She learned if you can't take the offensive, take the defensive—and fast. "Daryl!" she said as loud as her dry throat would let her. A few minutes passed and nothing happened. No stirring in the bushes or the gurgling of a walker's voice in the distance. She released her grip from the blade and held Daryl's vest with both hands as she cradled it to her chest. It smelled of dirt and sweat, but it didn't bother her. It was a familiar sent, and it's not like hygiene was a big thing in the apocalypse. Everyone smelled the same, so it was easy to be desensitized by it.

Beth thought that wherever Daryl went, he would be back, so there was no use in trying to find him. Plus, he was good on his own. He's a skilled tracker and he can fight a dozen walkers on his own. He's smart. And if Beth was too, she would stay where he left her, because that is the first place he would check for her. She turned around to walk to the front of the line of cars where the minivan was, but without knowing it, a walker had snuck up on her. She let out a yelp and took a step back, using her hands to hold its shoulders. The walker had been a middle-aged man, probably in his forties, probably a dad, and probably a big eater because he was two times her size. It wore a blue and black flannel that was ripped at the gut where intestines hung out. A part of its cheek was bitten off, and the flesh around his mouth was torn away, exposing rotten teeth covered in blood.

She could feel her arms giving out at the dead weight of the corpse. She still held on to Daryl's vest with her right hand, and in doing so let go of the walker's left shoulder and dug her elbow into its collar bone, using her right arm to keep it away by pushing on the neck, hoping his teeth wouldn't sink into her arm. It pinned her against a white pick up truck. She was trapped. She kept her right arm in its defense position as she let go of its right shoulder with her left hand. She tried to reach for her knife but the walker leaned to the right and stumbled onto her. She swiftly moved to the opposite side, and the walker's head slammed into the side of the car. She grabbed her knife from the holster and waited for the walker to approach her. It made terrifying noises from its throat and lunged at her at a speed it hadn't before. Beth dropped Daryl's vest on the ground and used her left arm to pin the walker by its throat against the truck. It was two heads taller than her, and she found it very difficult to fight it. With all her might she plunged the knife into its skull, releasing streams of thick, black blood that fell on her face. She let go of the walker and it fell onto the ground with a loud _thump_ and on a particular object she wish she hadn't let go of.

"Shit" Beth muttered, putting her knife in the holster. Kneeling down beside the dead corpse, she tried to push it off the vest, but it wouldn't budge. She sighed and closed her eyes. Slowly, she brought her hands under the corpse, as if to lift it up from the stomach. She felt the blood—cold and wet, underneath her nails and skin. She gagged. The smell was unbearable, and the thought of her touching the walker's intestines didn't appeal to her much. When she felt the vest under her nails she gradually brought it out from underneath the body. Daryl's kind-of-clean-for-an-apocalypse vest was now covered completely in blood and guts. She made her way to the minivan and stared at the angel-winged vest.

' _It's almost noon. He should be back by now."_

Climbing into the van, she took out her knife and dug up the carpeting on the floor underneath the passenger seat. When she thought she had a big enough piece, she ripped it out and started to wipe off the vest. She needed to rid of the blood before Daryl got back, although she was sure he would notice that his vest now smelled of corpse and not of dirt and leather. What if Daryl got stuck somewhere and needed help? What if he fell and got injured, or someone knocked him out when he wasn't looking, or a walker got to him or—

 _Knock Knock Knock_

A banging on the window next to her made her jump out of her wits, and made her come to her senses. 

There he was, grinning away with four squirrels in his hand, crossbow on his back. She immediately got out of the van and wrapped her arms around his torso.

"Where the hell did you go? I've been waitin' all day thinkin' you might'ah gotten hurt or somethin'," Beth said with anger and annoyance. She let go to look Daryl in the eyes. His hair didn't look as greasy as it did the night before, and he wore a new long sleeved shirt.

"I went lookin' for food 'n water when I came 'cross a farm. A few miles from here." Daryl gave her a questionable look. "You get in ah' fight?" He asked.

Beth knew he was talking about the blood on her face that she forgot to wipe off because she had gotten distracted by the vest. "About that…" she reached into the car and grabbed his vest. "I was lookin' for you when I thought I'd jus' wait in the van. 'cause I knew you'd be back here when you could be, when ah' walker snuck up behind. I got it, but it landed right on your vest." Beth handed it to him and he examined it.

"Smells like shit," he grumbled.

"I tried to get everythin' off, but I didn't have any water or anythin' to wipe off tha' blood. So I used the carpet from the van. I'm sorry. Maybe the farm will have somethin'?" Beth suggested. Daryl shoved the vest in his backpack and walked towards the Volvo. Daryl seemed upset, she felt kind of bad, considering he did give it to her to keep warm, and she covered it in walker guts. She followed him to the back of the Volvo, where he opened the trunk and grabbed a small bottle of lighter fluid. He then took some logs out of his pack and set them down, soaking them, then using his metal lighter to light the logs. He sat down and started skinning the squirrels. Beth sat next to him.

"You should keep two," she advised. He gave her a look. "Just… in case the farm doesn't have anythin'. We'll be hungry when we get there. Might as well save some ah' what we have so we don't have to go huntin' when we first get there, ya know?" Daryl looked at her for another moment, then put the third and fourth squirrel behind him, resuming skinning the second. Silence fell between them. She felt like she was being ignored.

"Look, if you're gonna be gone all day then come here n' not say anythin' then that's fine. But don't jus' say nothin' when I apologize for getting' your vest dirty," she spat. Beth crossed her arms against her chest and narrowed her eyes.

"A little blood never hurt nobody," Daryl shrugged. Another silence fell, but Beth could feel the air clear. Eventually, the squirrel was ready and they ate in peace.

"By the way," Beth said. "How did you know there was lighter fluid in tha' Volvo?" Daryl wiped his mouth then licked his fingers.

"I found it when I got up this mornin'. We didn't raid the cars last night so ah' though I'd do it when I got up." Daryl wiped his hands on his jeans, stood up, and stepped on the fire, crushing the embers into nothing but ash. Beth got up as well, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"Why didn't you wake me too?" she asked with interest.

"'Cause I knew you'd feel like shit."

Beth let a laugh escape her. "Yeah. My head's been killin' me all day."

Daryl slung his crossbow over his left shoulder and picked up his backpack. "We should get goin'. We don't wanna be stuck out here at night again. The farm's ah' few miles north uh' here. We should get there by sunset if we hurry." Daryl started to walk and Beth followed closely behind. It felt odd for him not to have his vest on. She was so used to looking at the angel wings and thinking that they protect her. But they didn't. It was always Daryl that protected her. And he would continue to do so no matter the cost. And the best part was: she knew he would as long as he was still the last man standing, and she was there beside him.

 **A/N:** How was it? My initial thought for this chapter was to have them arrive at the farm house, but that didn't happen! This chapter was more about Beth and her thoughts. There wasn't much Beth and Daryl "action" in this chapter, but there will be when they reach the farm house in the next story, so don't you worry! I kind of enjoy this one. I like the thought of the vest being a symbol of Daryl being her guardian angel. Not a lot happened in this story plot-wise, but I hope it was enjoyable all the same. Let me know what y'all think! I'm excited to be on this site finally!


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